LizH
About Me
Age at time of surgery: 26
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 261
Size: 20 in pants, 22/24 in tops
Starting BMI: 37.3
[Updated 1/22/08: I have a master's degree in Public Policy and work for the House of Representatives. I've had a small group of close friends for 10 years, one of whom has been my boyfriend for 9 years. We got engaged last summer, and we're getting married in August. I'm so fortunate that he has never once said or done anything hurtful regarding my weight. (If only everyone in my life were as loving.) I've also made several friends around the world online, and I enjoy getting together with them at concerts.]
My Reasons for Wanting the Surgery
Like lots of other people on this site, I've battled a weight problem my entire life, trying diet after diet, successfully losing some weight only to gain back even more. But I can pinpoint three main reasons why I've decided to have surgery now:
(1) First and foremost, I'm in a lot of physical pain -- seemingly moreso than many people my size or even larger. I have excruciating plantar fasciitis in my feet that is resistant to the anti-inflammatory drugs I've taken. As a result, I waddle slowly rather than walk. My primary care physician said it has nothing to do with my weight -- HA! Unlikely. And I'm happy to read accounts on here of this condition being relieved by weight loss.
In addition to the PF, my knees are shot. From the description I've read online, I assume I have osteoarthritis. I can barely bend or lift them. Getting out of bed, getting out of my car, sitting on the toilet, using stairs -- all very painful. I can't stand up from a seated position without pushing with my hands on something for support. I limp around my house like an old lady. It's horrifying -- and also confusing because I've talked to several people more obese than me who have no such problems.
And finally, I've been diagnosed with severe sleep apnea -- a surprise to me, really. Sure, I always feel like hell when I wake up, but so do some of my slender friends, and I didn't think I was obese enough to have sleep apnea. Well, I am.
I have to do a lot of running around for my job, and my weight and breathlessness has led to many mortifying moments. I can't keep up with coworkers, much less have a conversation with them, while walking. I can't wear heels or dress professionally. I shirk some of my responsibilities -- and live in fear of being caught -- because I don't want to exert the physical effort. I have social anxiety and am very self-conscious, and my weight obviously compounds this. I'm regularly captured on C-SPAN, which is just more salt in the wound to which I've resigned myself.
(2) I'm realizing (with the help of a few brutally honest but well-meaning friends) just how much being fat has affected my personality. I do think I'm naturally independent, introverted, and cynical and will remain so after I lose weight, but there are social situations which I avoid now solely because of my weight: parties outside of my comfortable group of friends, reunions, yoga. I live in the town in which I grew up, and I drive to a further grocery store and post office and bank to avoid seeing people who knew me as a child. And while cynical opinions coming from a slender person are humorous, coming from an obese person they just sound bitter.
(3) Finally, I've lost hope of losing weight the old-fashioned way. Throughout my years of being obese, I've had regular periods of feeling motivated, hopeful, and excited about getting back on the wagon, despite always falling off again. Well, now, I've been feeling all the disgust and desperation of being off the wagon, and yet the determination to do something about it never kicks in. I've stopped thinking in terms of "when I'm skinny" and just resigned myself to forever being fat. I know that to successfully lose weight, I'll have to change my lifestyle. And facing that prospect on willpower alone sounds impossible to me. I'm only 26, I haven't had kids yet, my mom didn't become obese until her 40s -- what the hell is in store for me? I know I HAVE to do something, and yet I've become so complacent and used to my "irrationalizing," as a friend calls it, that I've given up hope.
